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.Even so, I can see the rapid,desperate pattern of its breathing. Don t make me, I say, both ashamed because I haveto plead with her and angry for being made to.Raven stands up again. You still don t get it, do you? she says. This isn t a game, Lena.And it doesn t end here,or when we go south, or ever.What happened at thehomestead& She breaks off, shaking her head. There isno room for us anywhere.Not unless things change.We llbe hunted.Our homesteads will be bombed and burned.The borders will grow, and cities will expand, and there willbe no Wilds left, and nobody to fight, and nothing to fightfor.Do you understand? I say nothing.Heat is creeping up the back of my neck,making me feel light-headed. I won t always be around to help you, she says, andkneels again, one knee in the dirt.This time she parts therabbit s fur with her fingers, exposing a pink, fleshy bit ofneck, a throbbing artery. Here, she says. Do it. It strikes me then that the animal under her hands isjust like us: trapped, driven out of its home, desperatelyfighting for breath, for a few more inches of space.Andsuddenly I am blindingly angry at Raven for her lectures,and her stubbornness, and for thinking that the way that youhelp people is by driving them against a wall, by beatingthem down until they fight back. I don t think it s a game, I say, and I can t keep theanger out of my voice. What? You think you re the only one who knows anything. I mclenching my fists, one against my thigh, one around thehandle of the knife. You think you re the only one whoknows about loss, or being angry.You think you re the onlyone who knows about running. I m thinking of Alex, and I hate her for that, too; for bringing that back to me.The griefand anger is swelling, a black wave. I don t think I m the only one, Raven says. We ve alllost something.That s the rule now, isn t it? Even inZombieland.They lose more than most, maybe. Sheraises her eyes to mine.For some reason I can t stopshaking.Raven speaks with quiet intensity. Here s somethingelse you might as well learn now: If you want something, ifyou take it for your own, you ll always be taking it fromsomeone else.That s a rule too.And something must dieso that others can live. My breath stops.For a moment the world stopsturning, and everything is silence and Raven s eyes. But you know all about that, don t you, Lena? Shenever raises her voice, but I feel the words physically myhead starts pounding, my chest is full of searing pain.All Ican think is Don t say it, don t say it, don t say it, and I mfalling into the long dark tunnels of her eyes, back to thatterrible dawn at the border, when the sun seeped acrossthe bay like a slow stain.She says, Didn t you try to cross with someone else?We heard the rumors.You were with somebody& Andthen, as though she s only just remembering, although now Isee that she has known of course she has known allalong, and hatred and fury are welling up so fast and thick Ithink I will drown. His name was Alex, wasn t it? I am in midair, lunging at her, before I realize I vemoved.The knife is in my hand and I am going to drive it straight into her throat, bleed her and gut her and leave herto be picked apart by the animals.Just as I land on top of her, she jabs me in the ribs,pushing me off balance.At the same time her left handclamps around my right wrist and she pulls me down, hard,driving the knife straight into the rabbit s neck, exactlywhere she had been exposing its artery.I let out a small cry.I am still holding the knife, and she wraps her fingersaround my hand to keep it there.The rabbit jerks onceunder my hand and then goes still.For a moment I imaginethat I can still feel its heartbeat skimming under myfingertips, a quick echo.The rabbit s body is warm.A smallbit of blood seeps out from around the tip of the knife.Raven and I are so close I can smell her breath and thesweat on her clothes.I try to jerk away from her, but she justgrips me tighter. Don t be angry at me, she says. I m notthe one who did it. For emphasis, she forces my handdown a little farther.The knife goes another half inch intothe rabbit, and more blood bubbles up around its tip. Fuck you, I say, and suddenly I m crying for the firsttime since I came to the Wilds; for the first time since Alexdied.My throat closes up, and I can barely choke the wordsout.My anger is ebbing away now, replaced with a crazygrief for the stupid, dumb, trusting animal, who was runningtoo fast and didn t look where it was going and still evenafter its leg was scissored in the trap believed it mightescape.Stupid, stupid, stupid. I m sorry, Lena.That s the way it is. And she doeslook sorry: Her eyes have softened now, and I see how tired she is, and must always have been to live for years andyears and years this way, having to rip and shred just for aspace to breathe.Raven releases me, finally, and quickly and expertlyfrees the dead rabbit from the trap.She wrenches the knifefrom the rabbit s skin, wipes it once against the ground,and slips it into her belt.She loops the rabbit s feet througha metal ring on her backpack, so it dangles, headfirst,toward the ground.When she stands, it sways like apendulum.She is still watching me. And now we live for another day, she says, and turnsand walks away.I read once about a kind of fungus that grows in trees [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Even so, I can see the rapid,desperate pattern of its breathing. Don t make me, I say, both ashamed because I haveto plead with her and angry for being made to.Raven stands up again. You still don t get it, do you? she says. This isn t a game, Lena.And it doesn t end here,or when we go south, or ever.What happened at thehomestead& She breaks off, shaking her head. There isno room for us anywhere.Not unless things change.We llbe hunted.Our homesteads will be bombed and burned.The borders will grow, and cities will expand, and there willbe no Wilds left, and nobody to fight, and nothing to fightfor.Do you understand? I say nothing.Heat is creeping up the back of my neck,making me feel light-headed. I won t always be around to help you, she says, andkneels again, one knee in the dirt.This time she parts therabbit s fur with her fingers, exposing a pink, fleshy bit ofneck, a throbbing artery. Here, she says. Do it. It strikes me then that the animal under her hands isjust like us: trapped, driven out of its home, desperatelyfighting for breath, for a few more inches of space.Andsuddenly I am blindingly angry at Raven for her lectures,and her stubbornness, and for thinking that the way that youhelp people is by driving them against a wall, by beatingthem down until they fight back. I don t think it s a game, I say, and I can t keep theanger out of my voice. What? You think you re the only one who knows anything. I mclenching my fists, one against my thigh, one around thehandle of the knife. You think you re the only one whoknows about loss, or being angry.You think you re the onlyone who knows about running. I m thinking of Alex, and I hate her for that, too; for bringing that back to me.The griefand anger is swelling, a black wave. I don t think I m the only one, Raven says. We ve alllost something.That s the rule now, isn t it? Even inZombieland.They lose more than most, maybe. Sheraises her eyes to mine.For some reason I can t stopshaking.Raven speaks with quiet intensity. Here s somethingelse you might as well learn now: If you want something, ifyou take it for your own, you ll always be taking it fromsomeone else.That s a rule too.And something must dieso that others can live. My breath stops.For a moment the world stopsturning, and everything is silence and Raven s eyes. But you know all about that, don t you, Lena? Shenever raises her voice, but I feel the words physically myhead starts pounding, my chest is full of searing pain.All Ican think is Don t say it, don t say it, don t say it, and I mfalling into the long dark tunnels of her eyes, back to thatterrible dawn at the border, when the sun seeped acrossthe bay like a slow stain.She says, Didn t you try to cross with someone else?We heard the rumors.You were with somebody& Andthen, as though she s only just remembering, although now Isee that she has known of course she has known allalong, and hatred and fury are welling up so fast and thick Ithink I will drown. His name was Alex, wasn t it? I am in midair, lunging at her, before I realize I vemoved.The knife is in my hand and I am going to drive it straight into her throat, bleed her and gut her and leave herto be picked apart by the animals.Just as I land on top of her, she jabs me in the ribs,pushing me off balance.At the same time her left handclamps around my right wrist and she pulls me down, hard,driving the knife straight into the rabbit s neck, exactlywhere she had been exposing its artery.I let out a small cry.I am still holding the knife, and she wraps her fingersaround my hand to keep it there.The rabbit jerks onceunder my hand and then goes still.For a moment I imaginethat I can still feel its heartbeat skimming under myfingertips, a quick echo.The rabbit s body is warm.A smallbit of blood seeps out from around the tip of the knife.Raven and I are so close I can smell her breath and thesweat on her clothes.I try to jerk away from her, but she justgrips me tighter. Don t be angry at me, she says. I m notthe one who did it. For emphasis, she forces my handdown a little farther.The knife goes another half inch intothe rabbit, and more blood bubbles up around its tip. Fuck you, I say, and suddenly I m crying for the firsttime since I came to the Wilds; for the first time since Alexdied.My throat closes up, and I can barely choke the wordsout.My anger is ebbing away now, replaced with a crazygrief for the stupid, dumb, trusting animal, who was runningtoo fast and didn t look where it was going and still evenafter its leg was scissored in the trap believed it mightescape.Stupid, stupid, stupid. I m sorry, Lena.That s the way it is. And she doeslook sorry: Her eyes have softened now, and I see how tired she is, and must always have been to live for years andyears and years this way, having to rip and shred just for aspace to breathe.Raven releases me, finally, and quickly and expertlyfrees the dead rabbit from the trap.She wrenches the knifefrom the rabbit s skin, wipes it once against the ground,and slips it into her belt.She loops the rabbit s feet througha metal ring on her backpack, so it dangles, headfirst,toward the ground.When she stands, it sways like apendulum.She is still watching me. And now we live for another day, she says, and turnsand walks away.I read once about a kind of fungus that grows in trees [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]